Surprises
by Deb3
Summary: 4th in the Fearful Symmetry series. Horatio tries to solve his brother's death as Calleigh deals with the death of her father.
1. Default Chapter

4th in the Fearful Symmetry series. Fearful Symmetry, Can't Fight This Feeling, and Gold Medals precede it.  
  
Note: This story was written months before the episode Big Brother aired, so you're in an alternate universe.  
  
Pairing: H/C  
  
Spoilers: Freaks and Tweaks  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimers: I own neither CSI-Miami nor the lyrics to Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical The Phantom of the Opera. Don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything, anyway.  
  
Summary: The perfect moment is very hard to find.  
  
Dedication: To everyone who has looked for "the perfect moment" in life and thrown up their hands in hopefully humorous resignation. Murphy of Murphy's Law is alive and well, in real life as well as CSIM fic.  
  
***  
  
Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation.  
  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.  
  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses.  
  
The Phantom of the Opera  
  
***  
  
Calleigh lit the final candle and stepped back, checking the atmosphere. Several candles glowed on Horatio's table, their flickering light chasing shadows around the darkened room. A single rose in a vase made the centerpiece, and a wrapped present lay next to it. Calleigh let out a wordless hum of approval. This was what she wanted. Tonight, Horatio would get her personal award for his heroic actions of six weeks ago. Tonight would be perfect.  
  
She glanced at her watch again. Still a good half hour before she could expect him. Horatio had been kenneled in a meeting most of the afternoon with the DA, working over scheduled trials and rescheduled trials. His six weeks out of the office had brought havoc to the carefully planned court dates. He had warned her not to expect him early tonight. "What is this surprise, anyway?"  
  
"Wait and see," she said teasingly. "But I guarantee, you'll like this one. Not like last night." He had groaned in remembrance.  
  
She had absolutely loved last night, herself, but Horatio had simply endured it. The elaborate banquet and award ceremony had been the captain's idea, and he had refused to let it go, although Calleigh and Horatio both had stalled him as long as they could. Last night, though, Horatio had gone to the Waldorf like a martyr to the stake. Over 300 people had been there, members of the press, fellow officers, people who had been on the bridge when it was hit by the runaway boat. All of those closest to Horatio had a place of honor at the first table. Calleigh, Speed, Delko, Alexx and her husband, Yelina, and Ray Jr. had been there. Speed had even shaved for the occasion. After dinner, the lights had dimmed, and they all watched the by- now-famous aerial footage of the bridge collapse on a large screen. As the lights came back on, the room exploded into applause, and Horatio had reluctantly gone up to join the captain and the mayor on the platform. The mayor's speech before he handed over the plaque had lasted five minutes. Horatio's speech hadn't even lasted one, but every word had gone straight to Calleigh's heart. As he took the plaque, he said, "My mother taught me early on that the real meaning of life is not in the awards, the accomplishments, but in how many people you touch along the way. To everyone here who was at that bridge, I'm glad our lives touched. Any other officer, any other person would have done the same thing. I just happened to be there." The room exploded again into applause, led by the group at the head table, and Horatio accepted his plaque and made his way back down to his friends. He passed the citation around, letting them look at it, but Calleigh knew that the award that had meant the most to him had been given earlier in the evening, when a weeping woman had embraced him so tightly he could hardly breath and kissed him on each cheek. Then she handed her baby over to him, and Horatio picked up the squirming infant and looked him eye- to-eye. "I'm glad to meet you under better circumstances, Chris," he said solemnly, and the baby had stopped squirming and looked right back at him, frozen in his squirming by pure magnetism.  
  
Remembering him last night, Calleigh let out a sigh of pure contentment. Horatio. Her Horatio. And she knew absolutely, with every fiber of her soul, that he was her Horatio. Whatever problems might come up in the future, he had fully accepted her involvement in his life now and even welcomed it. Whatever happened from here on, they would be in it together.  
  
She glanced at the wrapped present on the table. It had taken her weeks of hard work to put this gift together. Struck by Horatio's gift to Eric, the perfect matching of the gift to the recipient, she had challenged herself to equal it, to give Horatio something that he would truly value, that would touch him in a way that a public banquet would not. She was satisfied with her choice, but she still couldn't wait to look into his eyes as he opened it. She started for the kitchen to begin making supper.  
  
Calleigh's cell phone rang, shattering her thoughts. "Duquesne," she said in a business-like fashion, although she hoped it was Horatio. No such luck.  
  
"Calleigh, this is Ruth down at Maxie's. Your dad is down here, and he's really far gone. We've stopped serving him, but he won't leave." No, thought Calleigh rebelliously. Not tonight. Damn you, Dad. She looked at her watch again. Horatio wasn't due yet.  
  
"Okay," she said. "I'll be right there." Resigned, she switched on the lights and blew out the candles. Ripping a piece of paper off the pad by the phone, she wrote quickly, "Horatio, I've got to run a quick errand. I'll be back soon. Do NOT open the present. Love, Calleigh." Perversely, she propped the note on the present, just to taunt him, and gathered her car keys.  
  
As Calleigh drove to Maxie's, she felt her irritation with her father, chronically suppressed, boil to the surface like a volcano. He would NOT ruin this night for her. At least he hadn't picked last night. When he arrived in Miami a few days ago to visit, she had greeted him at the airport by stating, "Daddy, I've got something really important to go to on Sunday night. I can't be with you then." He started to make coming along noises, and she stopped him cold. Her father was not going to show up half drunk (or worse) and ruin Horatio's banquet. Every night of their visit, she had reminded him how important Sunday night was and how absolutely unavailable she would be. He had actually listened for once, and nothing had happened last night. "I should have reserved tonight from him, too," she growled, pulling into Maxie's. "In fact, I should have reserved the rest of my life."  
  
Calleigh stalked into the bar, and the men crowding the counter parted like the Red Sea in the face of her determined wrath. Her father was at the far end, barely holding himself on his stool. "Lambchop," he slurred. "Guess you had time for me tonight, huh?"  
  
"Come on, Daddy." Calleigh jerked him to his feet too quickly, and he nearly fell over. Regaining his shifting balance, he leaned heavily against her, and they lurched together out to the parking lot. Calleigh tucked him into the passenger's seat, buckled him in, and started the car herself, pulling out a little too fast. She glanced across at him as she stopped for the first light, but she quickly realized that he wasn't in any shape to hear her tirade. His head had rolled sideways onto his shoulders, and his mouth was open slightly. He really was gone off the deep end tonight. He must have had the first several rounds elsewhere and already been half flown when Maxie's started serving him. His greeting to her stabbed briefly at her conscience, and she shoved it back down. Damn it, she had the right to tell her father that she couldn't go haul him out of a bar on a night when she had to attend a banquet.  
  
She pulled up to the motel where he was staying and somehow got him into the room and into the bed. She took off his shoes and covered him lightly with a blanket. He was still snoring, dead to the world. She took his pulse, which was strong and steady, then left him there, locking the door behind her. Now, she thought bitterly, to my perfect evening. But the tension knotting her shoulders would not go away.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh stopped halfway up the sidewalk to Horatio's house. He was playing the piano, and the sounds drifted through the open window and straight to her soul. "The Music of the Night," from Phantom of the Opera. How she wanted to let her senses abandon their defenses tonight. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to float away on the soaring melody, but the tension was still there. Horatio finished the piece, then came to the door, looking out. Like radar, he had sensed her. She came the rest of the way up the sidewalk, hiding herself in his arms.  
  
"What is it?" he said, his eyes narrowed with concern.  
  
"My father." No other explanation was needed. He filled in the puzzle pieces instantly.  
  
"I'm sorry." He held her close, running his hands soothingly over her back. Calleigh melted against him for a moment, then straightened up.  
  
"We are NOT going to let him ruin this evening. Come on. Like I said, I have a surprise for you." She stalked into the house with a fierce determination that brought a sad smile to Horatio's lips. He wished he knew what to say about her father, how to help. "Did you leave the present alone?" said Calleigh with forced cheerfulness.  
  
"You didn't say to leave it alone; you said not to open it."  
  
"Horatio!" She spun around on him, and he grinned at the exasperation in her voice. He had succeeded in distracting her a bit from her father, as he had intended.  
  
"I just shook it," he said.  
  
"Like a kid at Christmas." She shook her own head. "Come on, let's eat, and then you can have it."  
  
"I would have started cooking, but I wasn't sure how long you'd be."  
  
"Doesn't matter; we'll cook together. C'mere." She opened the fridge and watched him out of the corner of her eye as he crossed the kitchen. There was a very faint stiffness on the left leg, not really a limp, only noticeable if you knew how smoothly he usually moved, but that would soon disappear. It was already better in just the week since he had had the cast removed. In a few months, when the 4-inch scar down his right temple had faded, it would be hard to tell anything had happened to him. "How was the DA?" she said as he joined her.  
  
"Read me the riot act. Next time, I'm supposed to let everyone die and meet his court dates instead." Horatio and the DA had never seen eye to eye since the Sandoval case. Calleigh snorted, and Horatio studied her surreptitiously as they prepared dinner. She was a little more relaxed now, but the undercurrent of tension was still there. He fingered his own surprise, a small box in his jacket pocket, but reluctantly decided that this was not the night. He wanted the perfect moment, and she was too fresh from the insult of dealing with her father. Not that he had much doubt about her answer, but he wanted to be accepted as himself, wholly, not just in comparison to the drunken old man she had just pulled out of a bar. He would not ask her while that contrast was fresh in her mind. There will be other evenings, he told himself.  
  
They relit the candles and turned out the lights before eating, and the flickering of the flame heightened the intimacy of the meal. Finally, Calleigh reached for the wrapped present. "To my hero," she said, watching him duck away as expected from the compliment. "I don't have your mother's current resources, but I've done the best I could with a month." Curious now, he tore the paper off, not bothering to save it. Calleigh watched him intently, recording this with her memory, to be played over and over and savored.  
  
The gift was a photo album. He opened it and stared at the neat calligraphy inside the front cover, which read, "4182 . . . and counting." The first picture was of Calleigh herself, a studio shot she had had taken just a few weeks ago, with her hair down the way he liked it and a slight smile on her lips that had been placed there by the thought of him. He stared at it for a long moment, then turned the pages. One by one, pictures of people he had saved were smiling at him. Everyone who had been on the bridge. The entire CSI team. People he had saved in his bomb squad and homicide days. It took him a good 30 minutes to go through all of them, 310 pictures in all, the fruits of an exhausting month's track work for Calleigh. Horatio's eyes were moist as he finished, and he flipped back to the first picture again, Calleigh. He savored the image, then looked up at the reality. Even better. "Thank you," he said. "This is incredible. How did you find all these people?" He did not have to ask who they were.  
  
"Lots of help from computers," she said. The look in his eyes made all the hours worth it. She had asked herself over and over after seeing his gift to Eric, what does matter to Horatio? What touches him more than anything? The answer had been simple: People. The people whose lives he had touched were what mattered, like he had said in his speech last night. Not the awards, but the people.  
  
He stood and came around behind her chair, wrapping both arms around her, bending over to kiss her on the forehead, then proceeding down her nose until he finally landed on her lips. She shuddered in pure delight and returned his embrace, and his kisses, wholeheartedly.  
  
For the second time that evening, the moment was interrupted by a cell phone, this time Horatio's. He groaned but reluctantly straightened and grabbed the phone from his jacket pocket. "Horatio," he said in a slightly less than welcoming voice.  
  
"Horatio, you probably don't remember me, but it's Susie."  
  
"Susie?" He instantly placed the name. "Sure, I remember you, but I thought you went to Indiana."  
  
"I did, actually. And believe it or not, I wound up in rehab."  
  
"That's great, Susie," he said, meaning it. "I wish you the best with it."  
  
"Thanks," she replied. "It was thinking of you that got me to go, actually. You saying that it wasn't too late to start a new life. Anyway, I just got out of a 60 day program. I've been thinking all the time I was up there, and my mind is clearer now than it was. I just got back in Miami, and I'd like to talk to you about some things."  
  
"Fine, Susie. We could meet sometime this week."  
  
"Tonight," she insisted. "I've got to get this off my chest as soon as possible."  
  
"Tonight isn't good," said Horatio, meeting Calleigh's eyes.  
  
"It's about Tin Man."  
  
Horatio froze. "You know more than you told me?"  
  
"A lot more. Nothing definite, but things you could work with. It just seemed to matter to you so much, the way you asked about him."  
  
"Where can we meet?" She provided the address of her motel. "Great, I can be there in 30 minutes."  
  
"Come alone," she said. "This is going to be hard enough with just you."  
  
"Right, see you soon."  
  
He snapped the phone shut, and Calleigh stared at him. "Who is Susie?"  
  
"A druggie that I met on the case where Chaz was put away."  
  
Dear God, not that case again, thought Calleigh. Horatio's soul had been raked by that one, and the entire department had heard how it had ended, with Horatio coming within inches of actually assaulting Chaz.  
  
"She said she has some information about Ray." His eyes pleaded for understanding. "I have to go, Calleigh."  
  
She understood, even if she didn't like it. "I know, Horatio. It's okay. Do you want me to go with you?"  
  
"I'd like that, but she said to come alone."  
  
Calleigh pushed her chair back and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. A gentle kiss this time, not with the passion of a few minutes ago, but reminding him of her support. "Go ahead. But be careful, alright?"  
  
"Always." Right, she snorted, as he picked up his gun and badge. His eyes were already distant, his mind already out of the house. She hugged him again, then watched him leave. My perfect evening, she thought, but her thoughts couldn't stay in self-pity for long. They jumped over to concern instantly. Whatever Susie had to tell him about Ray, Calleigh hoped it wouldn't reopen old, unhealed wounds. She thought of waiting for him, but it was quite possible that he would go from the meeting with Susie straight onto whatever scent she was putting him on. He would easily be gone a few hours. Enough time for Calleigh to check on her father again.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh unlocked the motel room and switched on the light. Her father was still dead to the world, passed out on the bed, but Calleigh suddenly noticed his color. Surely he hadn't been that pale earlier. No, she remembered, he had been flushed with the liquor, but now, he was dead white. She quickly went over to take his pulse again. This time, it was uneven, thready. "Daddy," she said, shaking him. No response. His skin was clammy, though, and he just did not look right. Calleigh instantly dialed 911, then sat by her father, listening to his shallow breaths as she waited for the ambulance. Her first instinct was to call Horatio on his cell phone, but she suppressed it. He was finding out inside information about Ray, and she didn't want to distract him. He had enough to deal with at the moment. She called his home instead, leaving a message on the answering machine. Then, she called Alexx. As she hung up, the ambulance pulled into the motel lot, the red and blue lights leaping through the windows and flashing around the room in a sick parody of the candlelight earlier that evening. Just perfect, she told herself.  
  
TBC . . . 


	2. Surprises 2

"There will never be a day when I won't think of you."  
  
The Phantom of the Opera  
  
***  
  
Susie sat on the edge of the bed in her motel room, eyes wide like a startled deer frozen in headlights, uncertain which way to jump. Her voice wasn't quite steady, but Horatio hung on every word. He realized how hard this was for her, revisiting her life's low point just when she had started to climb out. There was also the question of her personal safety. Chaz was securely behind bars, but there were others in the drug underworld, and Susie knew far too much for her own good about inside drug operations. She was actually quite observant, and in spite of her tension, she was an excellent witness.  
  
"You asked me if I had ever shot up with Tin Man. I've been thinking about that since, and you know, I never once actually saw him high. Me, yeah. Everyone else around. He would talk about it, all right, but I never saw it. Chaz said he did. He hung around with Chaz a lot. Chaz would sell his mother for a dollar, though, so I never really trusted anything he said."  
  
"How long was R . . Tim Man with Chaz and the gang?"  
  
"About 6 months." Average time for an undercover infiltration operation. Nothing went too quickly.  
  
"Did anyone ever act suspicious of him?"  
  
Susie considered. "Billy, one of Chaz's best friends, never liked him. I think he was jealous, really. Tin Man spent so much time with Chaz. Billy even tried to tell Chaz once that he needed to be careful, that Tin Man might be a cop."  
  
"What did he say to that?" The tone was a little too sharp, and the eyes leaped into hard focus like lasers. Susie checked, physically incapable of answering in the face of such intensity. Horatio forced himself to tone it down a little, back off. "What did he say?" he repeated more gently.  
  
"He said, `I don't have to worry about the cops.'"  
  
"Are you sure? Not `I don't have to worry about Tin Man?'"  
  
"I heard him. He said he didn't have to worry about the cops. And he laughed when he said it. You know, I wondered a lot of times if he didn't have someone working for him on the inside. Things were too easy for Chaz. And the other gangs, sometimes they would get busted at the most convenient times."  
  
"Can you tell me anything else about Tin Man?"  
  
"Only that the whole last week I saw him, right before he disappeared, something was really bugging him. He didn't seem like himself at all. I asked him once what was wrong, and he said something about trying to decide who his friends were. He was always nice to me, never just put me down when I asked him a question like the others would. Also, I found him asleep one night that week. We'd all been up really late, partying, and I found him in the corner asleep. I thought he was just passed out at first - I was almost passed out myself - but he really looked just exhausted, not high. Anyway, I curled up on a blanket a little way down the wall, but he woke me up later talking in his sleep. I couldn't get all of it, but he was mumbling something about `he's betraying his friends.' Over and over. It was really eating him, all night." She paused. "That's it, I think. If I remember anymore, I'll call you. So much of it is hazy. I wish I could be a better witness."  
  
"You are a wonderful witness," said Horatio, "but I really think, for your own sake, that Miami isn't the safest place for you. Go back to Indiana, Susie, and start your life over."  
  
"I will," she promised. "I only came here to talk to you. And to thank you."  
  
"Thank me for what?"  
  
"For treating me like I still had some value, even when I didn't. No one had been nice to me like that since Tin Man. You made me think my life might be worth saving."  
  
"People always have value, Susie."  
  
"It made a difference in rehab. I kept telling myself, on tough days, at least one person in the world believes I can do this." She had been studying her hands through most of the conversation, but now she looked up. "It really does matter to you, doesn't it? I hope you find what you're looking for."  
  
"I'm only looking for the truth," said Horatio. "Whatever it is. I'll face it either way. But I need to know."  
  
Susie smiled suddenly, making her battle-worn face appear much younger. "I saw you on the news last night, by the way." Horatio groaned, and she stood up, eying the long slash down the side of his face. "That bridge collapse was awesome. You look good in scars. Could I hug you, Horatio?" He opened his arms as an answer, and she hugged him, still tentatively, as if unsure of her welcome. "Thank you again," she said. "If you do find the truth, let me know."  
  
"Thank you, Susie. I'll keep you posted. Take care of yourself, now." Horatio exited the motel room. By his watch, it was 10:30, but he did not head home. Instead, he turned the Hummer toward CSI.  
  
***  
  
There ought to be a legal limit to time spent in hospitals, thought Calleigh. She had seen more than enough hospitals the last two months to last the rest of her life, and here she was again in another waiting room. I've served my time, she thought sourly. It's someone else's turn. At least her father was stable, although they were still sorting out all of his alcohol-induced problems. It could be a lot worse, although nothing could be as bad as the night she had spent watching Horatio hover at death's door, absolutely unable to reach him. She shivered at the memory.  
  
"Are you cold, Calleigh?" Alexx's warm friendship wrapped around Calleigh like a blanket, stopping the chills instantly.  
  
"No, just thinking. I've had about enough of these places lately." Alexx smiled sympathetically and patted her arm.  
  
"Ms. Duquesne?" The doctor entered the waiting room, and Calleigh stood up eagerly. "Your father is in stable condition. His blood alcohol level was 0.35, and the level of intoxication was depressing his breathing. He does have several problems that need urgent attention, though. He's been an alcoholic for years, you said?"  
  
"Right, long as I can remember."  
  
"Well, the years are catching up with him. He's developed fluid around his heart, and this was also impeding the breathing. We're putting him on medication for it, but he must stop drinking. His liver is in bad shape, too. He's had several problems building up for a while, and his bout tonight exacerbated them."  
  
"It wasn't just a result of tonight, though?" Calleigh still felt a bit guilty about her father's greeting to her. She knew that quite likely she was part of the cause for his drinking so much that evening.  
  
"No, these are chronic conditions. They will only get worse, too. He must change his lifestyle."  
  
"Good luck," said Calleigh bitterly. "We've tried everything."  
  
"Sometimes, medicine can put a scare into people when family can't," said the doctor. His eyes were sympathetic. "We'll try to do what we can. Ultimately, though, it's his life. It depends on if he wants to save it."  
  
"Could I see him?"  
  
"Certainly, if you like, but he's still unconscious. He won't be in the best of moods when he wakes up, either." He gave Calleigh her father's room number and headed off to see other patients. Calleigh turned to her companion.  
  
"Alexx, could you do me a favor?"  
  
"Of course, honey. Name it."  
  
"Would you check on Horatio for me? You know this was his first day back, and he went chasing off on something after he got a phone call earlier. He still isn't quite 100%, you know. I'm tied up here, but I'd feel better if someone was making sure he was being . . . " She hesitated, searching for the word.  
  
"Reasonable?" offered Alexx, and Calleigh grinned at her conspiratorially. That had been Horatio's doctor's word when he had released him at the end of last week. "You can go back to work, but be reasonable. Don't hit full throttle right away. You aren't as strong as you think you are."  
  
"Exactly, reasonable," said Calleigh. "I'd really appreciate it."  
  
"No problem. I'll track him down," said Alexx. "Are you okay here alone?"  
  
"Fine. Thanks for waiting with me."  
  
"No problem. Still, like you said, we've got to stop meeting like this." Alexx gave Calleigh a warm hug and headed for the exit, and Calleigh went to find her father.  
  
He was on oxygen now, and his breathing was easier. Studying him in the bed, she couldn't help but notice the softness around the body, the face older than its years. "You've got to start taking care of yourself, Daddy," she told him, as if he could hear her. "I won't always be around to do it for you."  
  
***  
  
Horatio sat in his office studying the computer until his eyes burned with the effort. The records of Ray's cases were all at least two years old, and they were coldly impersonal. Even the report on the fatal shootout was written in stilted, official language that suddenly made Horatio mad. He was a person, damn it, not an incident, he fumed at the apathetic screen. Good, bad, or in between, he was a person. What Horatio really needed were the more extensive files in the police archives, not just the computerized summaries. Somewhere in those files was the link, the man who betrayed his friends, the man Ray had wrestled with in his dreams all night. Maybe. And maybe he was just barking up a tree that wasn't even there. He knew that Ray had always felt competitive, tried to top Horatio, on the force like everywhere else. Perhaps the stress had gotten to him. Horatio knew how stressful police work could be. It happened to lots of cops. Especially ones, like Ray, who had been exposed to the enemy on the streets day after day.  
  
Horatio pushed his wheeled chair back slightly from the computer screen and rested both elbows on his desk. He pressed his face into his hands, massaging the temples, tracing the long scar on the right side. It felt like it was on fire tonight. He closed his eyes.  
  
"Are you okay?" The sharp alarm in Alexx's voice brought his head up instantly.  
  
"Fine," he said. "I've just got a bit of a headache. What are you doing here at this hour?"  
  
"I was about to ask you the same question." She marched over to the desk and put her hand under his chin, lifting his head. "Look at me." She studied his eyes carefully, making sure that the pupils matched, which they did. Next, she took his pulse.  
  
"Alexx, stop it. I'm fine. I've had plenty of headaches in the past, and I'm sure I'll have many more on this job."  
  
She dropped his wrist but did not back away. "You need to get home. You can't catch up six weeks in one day." Her eyes drifted to the computer screen, and she hesitated at the unfamiliar format of the list. "Wait a minute, those aren't CSI files. What are you working on?"  
  
Horatio reached across instantly and hit the computer power button. The screen faded with a forlorn beep. "Nothing."  
  
Alexx wasn't above ignoring Horatio's no trespassing signs at times, but she did not push the point now. He was too tired for her to argue with him tonight. "Fine, if you're working on nothing, it won't hurt to leave it. Come on." She tugged at his arm, almost dragging him to his feet. "Don't you have to be in court tomorrow?"  
  
Horatio grinned, suddenly relaxing slightly. "I think I have to be in court for the rest of my life. I've never seen the DA so mad. You should have heard him."  
  
"Believe me, we have. We've had six weeks of it, while he was warming up his speech to you." They exited his office, and as they started down the stairs, she said, "He'll be even madder if you show up half asleep in court tomorrow. High time you were home."  
  
"I'm telling you, I'm not that tired." Even as he said it, Horatio's left ankle suddenly gave out. Only Alexx's frantic grab at his arm and the fact that his left hand had been on the railing anyway saved him from falling the entire length of the stairs.  
  
Alexx knew better than to say anything, but she maintained her tight grip on his arm until they reached the bottom safely. "Thanks," he said finally. "Maybe it has been a long enough day."  
  
"Do you want me to drive you home?"  
  
"No, I'm fine."  
  
"You go home, though. Straight home. Promise me."  
  
"I promise," he said truthfully, and she accepted it. "Thank you, Alexx. I'll see you in the morning."  
  
"Good night." Alexx watched him leave and wondered if she should have told him about Calleigh's father. No, Calleigh herself could do that. And if he knew, Horatio would head for the hospital, and he needed to be in bed. Smiling at her boss's characteristic refusal to admit he'd had enough, Alexx headed for her own car. Sometimes she wondered what any of them would do without her. She often felt like she didn't just have two children but a whole CSI full.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh was sitting by her father's bedside, wondering how in the world to convince him that he really did need help. She did not hear anyone enter the room, but a well-known, strong but gentle grip suddenly locked on both of her shoulders. "Hi, Handsome," she said, turning around to smile at him.  
  
"I found your message when I got home," he said. He looked dead tired, but his eyes were full of warmth and concern. His protectiveness absolutely melted her, as always. "How is he?"  
  
"They think he's stable in the short term, but his lifestyle is catching up with him. How am I going to convince him he needs help, Horatio? I've been trying for years, and it's gotten nowhere." She stood up, wrapping herself up in his arms and in his concern for her. As always, there was rest and peace in his arms. A haven to hide from the world, even in a hospital. She pushed back suddenly and studied him. "Horatio, what did Susie have to say?"  
  
"Several things. Nothing definite, but little hints that could be useful. Ray might not have been the bad cop, after all, although someone was." She saw his eyes go distant, studying all of the puzzle pieces again, and she shook him slightly, drawing his attention back to her.  
  
"Hey, enough for tonight. You need to be in bed."  
  
"I'm not leaving you here alone. You've spent enough time in hospitals lately."  
  
She sighed. "Horatio, please. Don't make me worry about you, too. Go home."  
  
"Not until you do." His tone was dead-set, stubborn. "Your father is stable, they said. There's no reason for you to stay here all night. It will probably be hours before he wakes up."  
  
True enough. She considered, weighing her duty to her father with her concern for Horatio. The scales tipped way over. "Okay, you win. I'll go home tonight and come back tomorrow. Can I have tomorrow off, boss?"  
  
"Of course. I wish I could be here with you, to keep you company, but I've got to be in court."  
  
"Horatio, you are here for me, always. I know that." She hugged him again.  
  
"I just wish I could do more."  
  
"That is why I love you," she mumbled with her face buried in his chest.  
  
"What?" He hadn't caught the words. She straightened up and met his eyes.  
  
"Go home, Horatio. I'm leaving, too. I promise." He held her eyes for a minute, gauging her sincerity, then stepped forward to give her a final squeeze.  
  
"See you tomorrow sometime, but I'll be in court all day. Take care of yourself, Calleigh."  
  
"You, too," she said. "See you tomorrow." He left the room, and she took one final look at her father, then turned for the door, feeling slightly guilty, but also relieved to be leaving. She knew her actions would make a difference with Horatio. She wasn't sure if anything would make a difference with her father.  
  
***  
  
"Alexx, would you do me a favor?"  
  
"Sure." Alexx looked up from the ME reports she was working on and faced Horatio.  
  
"Could you check on Calleigh for me? I'm going to be tied up in court all day, and I didn't want to call her before I left, in case I woke her up. But I don't like the idea of her spending all day at the hospital alone. So if you could check on her for me a little later . . . What's funny?"  
  
Alexx immediately wiped the smile off her face. "Nothing. Sure, I'll check on her for you. Have fun in court, Horatio." He rolled his eyes at her and left. Once he was safely out of the room, Alexx put down her pen and laughed until tears ran from her eyes. What a pair those two made!  
  
***  
  
Calleigh entered her father's room. He was awake now. He was also not in the best of moods, as the doctor had predicted. "Calleigh," he said, squinting against the morning light. "What did you haul me down here for?"  
  
"You were having trouble breathing, Daddy. You needed help."  
  
"Just needed a ride home. You never dragged me to the hospital before."  
  
"Daddy, you really did need help."  
  
"She's right," said the doctor over her shoulder. "You were suffering from congestive heart failure and chronic liver failure. Your lifestyle is catching up to you, Mr. Hayes. You are going to have to make some serious changes if you want to spend many more years with your family."  
  
The medical terminology rocked her father for a minute. "It really was serious?"  
  
"It was. It is." The doctor's pager went off, and he looked at it. "Excuse me," he said, and left the father and daughter alone.  
  
"I'm sorry, Calleigh," he said after a moment.  
  
"I'm sorry I had to do it to you, Daddy," she replied. "But you really were having trouble breathing."  
  
There was silence for a moment. "How was your banquet on Sunday?" he asked suddenly.  
  
"Wonderful," she replied.  
  
"Saw about it on the news," he said. "Your boss saved a lot of people, didn't he?"  
  
"He sure did," she agreed. Suddenly, she wanted to talk to him about Horatio, about something that mattered, like a father and daughter should talk, not just about trying to drag him off the path to self- destruction. "Daddy, Horatio and I have been . . . "  
  
Her father interrupted her, and she realized that he hadn't heard a word of what she said. "Serious changes. Rehab and all. I'm not sure if I could do that, Cal."  
  
"You wouldn't have to do it alone," she promised. "I'd be here for you." He smiled at her.  
  
"You always are. I do love you, Cal. I may not have always shown it, but I do love you."  
  
"I love you too, Daddy," she said. After that, there seemed nothing more to say. How could silence be so awkward between two people and so intimate between two others, she wondered. Gradually, her father drifted off to sleep again, and she picked up yesterday's newspaper from the waiting room and brought it to his room to read by his bedside. Today's paper was there, too, but yesterday's included a story about Horatio. She read it until she memorized it, thinking of him.  
  
***  
  
Horatio entered his office feeling battered from the day but pleased. Court had gone well, even if it ran late, and one more criminal was off the street. He wondered how many future victims had been saved by this conviction. Someday, he would have to ask his mother. He sat down at his desk, then froze as he saw the note in the center of it in Alexx's neat handwriting. "Horatio, Calleigh's father died this afternoon around 3:00. They thought he was stable, but his heart just gave out. Calleigh is holding up pretty well. Her mother is flying in from Louisiana and will be here tomorrow. Could you check on her yourself tonight, though? I have things I have to do with my family." He stood up instantly and headed for the garage, checking his watch. 7:30. She would probably be back at her place, making phone calls, discussing arrangements.  
  
He now had a key to her apartment, as she now had a key to his house, and he let himself in quietly. "Calleigh?" No sign of her, although her purse was on the table, so he knew she was here. He quietly searched through the house, finding her in the study, stretched out on the couch with the phone on the table next to her. She was asleep. Tears had streaked her make up, and she looked utterly worn. Quietly, he slipped her shoes off. She knew his hands, and she did not wake up. He settled himself in the chair across the coffee table, watching her. She looked so small and helpless. Looks are deceiving, he told himself. Only physically small, and not at all helpless, but he still wanted to shelter her. He wished he could have been there for her this afternoon, instead of in court.  
  
Calleigh stirred, muttering small, incoherent, agitated sounds. Horatio crossed over to the couch and knelt beside her, touching her gently. "Shh, Calleigh. It's okay. I'm here." She settled down, but when he tried to straighten up and took his hand off her arm, she grew restless again. It occurred to him suddenly that he owed her a night kneeling on the floor, and he had never paid up. Fine, tonight he would. He settled himself as comfortably as he could, propping his head on the edge of the couch, stroking her arm gently, watching her sleep.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh woke up suddenly. The room was dark, but the streetlight outside her window spilled in, illuminating the furniture, highlighting Horatio on the floor next to the couch. She smiled, realizing that he was the one who had broken the restless dreams about her father. His hand on her arm, like an anchor. The deep ache of the day lessened slightly just by his presence. She studied him, memorizing every line of his face again. How had she ever lived without him? Even through this long and difficult day, she had known he was thinking of her, and his thoughts had held her together through the call to her mother.  
  
Horatio shifted himself, whimpering slightly. His hand on her arm never stirred, but the rest of him tensed up. What was he dreaming about? Ray, most likely. With a stab of guilt, she realized that she still did not have the full story of what was going on with Ray. Horatio was going through something, and she had not been there for him, distracted by her father. She gently placed her other hand on top of Horatio's where it rested on her arm. "Easy, Horatio," she whispered. "I'm here now." He settled down, and she studied his hand, wedged between her two. Their lives were so intertwined, it seemed. Such dependency frightened her, to need someone else that much. Still, it was the most marvelous sense of release she had ever known The last few months had been the best of her life, even with her father's death. Horatio was here for her. She was here for him. This was where they belonged. If the world will just leave us alone, she thought. Then her thoughts drifted hazily into incoherence, and they both slept, both dreaming now, for some reason, of fields full of wildflowers. 


	3. Surprises 3

"Masquerade! Hide your face so the world could never find you."  
  
The Phantom of the Opera  
  
***  
  
Early morning sunlight, warm as kisses, touched Calleigh across the face. She woke up slowly, reluctantly, never a morning person. Slowly, the events of the previous 24 hours organized themselves in her mind. Her father. Her mother. Horatio.  
  
She snapped her eyes fully open and looked over. Yes, he was still there, his face close to hers but still in shadow. The morning light had not reached him yet. His head was propped against the couch, his hand still on her arm, with her hand still on top of it. He was deeply asleep. She watched him breathe, something that never got old for her since he had nearly died six weeks ago. We take so much for granted, she thought. Her father had taken so much for granted, believing that his life could go on as it always had, unaffected by his actions. She had taken so much for granted, believing that she was just hauling him out of a bar one more time, like any other. At least she had talked to him a little yesterday. An unsatisfactory conversation, but it had been a conversation. The last words he had heard from her, the last words she had heard from him, had been, "I love you." Did she? In spite of the black memories, the drunken rages, the hidden bruises of her childhood, she knew part of her did. He had taught her to shoot. He had taught her how to do her job, even if by negative example. As much as he was capable, she thought, he had loved her. And as much as she could, she had loved him back. She could not love all of him, but she could not hate him. Part of her longed for a black and white world, for people who were either good or bad, not a fallible mixture. She studied Horatio. For him, the world is black and white, she thought. He had the purest soul she had ever known. No, his world isn't black and white, she corrected herself. There are mixtures, unknowns. Like Ray. Things that he could not fully see, people that he could not fully know. He still tried, with a loyalty that was fiercer because of the doubt. And she loved him more for it. What would he make of her mother, she wondered. Her mother lived in a world of solid gray, untouched by reality.  
  
Her mother. Calleigh's wandering thoughts collapsed to reality with a thump. Her mother was flying in today. She would be here, mourning a fallen angel who only existed in her imagination. And Calleigh would have to take care of everything. She sighed. As if answering her reality check, her alarm clock suddenly went off, automatically set for this hour. Three rooms away, it buzzed like a muted but persistent bumblebee. Horatio did not wake up, but he stirred slightly, swimming a little closer to the surface. Calleigh gently pulled her hand out from under his and started to jump up, trying to get to the clock before it disturbed him. Used to her own slight body, she forgot the length of him stretched out on the floor, though, and she landed straight on his feet, tangling herself up more hopelessly as she tried unsuccessfully to avoid stepping on him, finally falling over, landing on her hands and knees beside the coffee table.  
  
"Good morning." Horatio's voice was a low rumble of amusement. How she loved his voice!  
  
"Good morning, but that really isn't how I meant to start it." Calleigh rolled over and scrambled up.  
  
"Somehow I figured that out." He started to pry himself off the floor, using the coffee table to pull up on, stiff after the long night. Calleigh extended a hand to him.  
  
"Now," he said, when he was standing next to her, "take two. Good morning." He wrapped her warmly in his arms and kissed her.  
  
"Good morning," she agreed, and it suddenly was one. The alarm clock buzzed in her bedroom, annoyed at being ignored, but she tuned it out for a moment and just let herself be held. To hell with alarm clocks, she thought. The phone immediately rang. Reluctantly, they parted.  
  
"This is getting to be a pattern," she grumbled and picked up the phone. Horatio headed for her bedroom to kill the alarm clock, and she realized guiltily that he was limping slightly. Had she kicked him in his ankle stepping on him?  
  
"Calleigh? Calleigh?" The phone squawked persistently in her ear.  
  
"Um, yeah."  
  
"Are you awake?"  
  
"Yes," she said. Not entirely. The voice was familiar but hadn't registered yet.  
  
"This is your brother."  
  
The voice clicked. "Peter? I thought you . . . " She broke off. She had called her brother the night before, to tell him about their father, and he had responded with disbelief, then delight, then anger when she asked if he wanted to come to the funeral. The call ended when he hung up on her.  
  
"Yeah, I did. Couldn't sleep last night, though. I think I was wrong. Not about Dad; he can burn in hell for all I care. But I can't leave you to face Mom alone. So I am coming to Miami."  
  
I'm not alone, she thought, as Horatio came back into the room. My REAL family is here supporting me. "Um, great, Peter. That's great. When will you get here?"  
  
"Probably this afternoon sometime. I'll let you know when I have a time on the flight. I'll rent a car at the airport, though. You'll have enough to deal with without picking me up."  
  
"And it will be easier to make a fast getaway," Calleigh said without thinking. He chuckled in her ear, and suddenly they were kids again who had once played together, who had faced her father's rages together before Peter ran away.  
  
"Exactly. It will be good to see you, Cal."  
  
"And to see you. Till later, then."  
  
"Bye." She stood there holding the dead phone, and Horatio slipped over and took it from her, hanging it up.  
  
"Who is Peter?"  
  
"My brother. He's flying in today." She headed for the kitchen, opening cabinets. "What would you like for breakfast?"  
  
"Calleigh." He gripped her shoulders gently, and she turned to face him. "We were interrupted a minute ago." He pulled her against him, holding her tight, running his hands across her back, and she suddenly broke down in tears again. She thought she had cried all of them last night. He held her, saying nothing, just being there. Finally, she pushed away and fumbled for a Kleenex to blow her nose.  
  
"I don't even know why I'm crying for him, really. You know what he was."  
  
"Yes. He was your father." She started opening cabinets again, pulling out food at random, and he added, "And he did one priceless thing. One thing that I'll mourn him for."  
  
"What's that?" She paused, curious.  
  
"He gave you to the world." Suddenly, Calleigh came back across to him, hugging him fiercely. What an absolutely touching thing to say, more touching because he meant it. At least one other person, knowing all of his bad points, would still mourn him along with her.  
  
"Now," she said after a minute, "seriously, what would you like for breakfast?"  
  
"Scrambled eggs," he replied, accepting the mood shift. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He really was favoring that leg a little more than he had been.  
  
"Did I kick you in the ankle earlier?"  
  
"Yes." That was Horatio, honest to the core. "I'm glad to have the opportunity to pay my debts, though. I owed you a night on the floor beside a couch."  
  
"Horatio, you don't have to pay every debt. I would have let that one go."  
  
He smiled at her, but it faded after a moment. "I've got to go in to work today, Calleigh."  
  
"I know. It's okay." She dropped a kiss on top of his head as she walked behind his chair. "You helped me get through yesterday, and I never even saw you." Which reminded her of his own current issues. "Horatio, what is going on about Ray?"  
  
He sighed. "I honestly don't know, Cal. I'm going to dig a little deeper today, though. There are a few angles I can work, trying to plug in Susie's leads."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Chaz's notebook. I only read the one page of it. I never really looked at the whole thing. I can try to find a common thread in the police files, Ray's old cases. And, on a longer shot, I'm going to swing by before going to CSI and talk to Yelina."  
  
A quick stab of jealousy poked at Calleigh. He felt it and smiled at her. "She's family, Calleigh. Just family."  
  
"Maybe from your point of view. Not from hers."  
  
"Trust me." Well, of course, she trusted him. She kissed him again as she went by to the stove, then returned a minute later with the plates. They ate in silence. He stood up finally, reluctantly. "I need to go home to shower and change clothes, too." He did indeed look uncharacteristically rumpled, and Calleigh chuckled. "What are the arrangements for your father? Do you know yet?"  
  
She sighed. "Mother wants the body flown back to Louisiana to be buried, probably with a marble monument for her to weep at. But she absolutely could not face arranging the funeral, she said. She wants it here, in Miami. Where I can do everything." She couldn't entirely keep the resentment out of her voice. He hugged her again.  
  
"If today gets to be too much for you, if you just need to talk a second, call me."  
  
"I might at that." She hugged him back. "The funeral will be tomorrow afternoon. Can you make it?"  
  
"I will." He gave her his sudden smile, then left. Even with him gone, the smile remained, like the Cheshire cat, brightening the room somehow. Bless you, Horatio, she thought suddenly. I hope we both get through today.  
  
***  
  
"You want WHAT?" Lightning flashed in Yelina's eyes. Horatio stood his ground.  
  
"Raymond's diary."  
  
"You're not serious." She could see that he was absolutely serious. "Horatio, why can't you just leave this thing alone? Let the past stay dead. There's too much pain going there."  
  
"I've got new information. Information that could possibly make a difference."  
  
"Make a difference in what? Raymond is dead. Nothing is going to change that."  
  
"We would know the truth." To Horatio, no other explanation was needed.  
  
"What if it isn't the truth we want to know? Why can't you just find peace and leave it? I'm finally getting some peace with this."  
  
"How on earth can you find peace without knowing the truth?"  
  
"Because you can't know everything. You can't answer all the questions. And you aren't going to answer them with Ray's diary, even if you could. Get over it, Horatio!" She slammed the door in his face.  
  
Horatio headed back down the driveway to the Hummer but did not get in, just leaned against it for a minute. He hadn't really thought she would let him see Ray's diary. Yelina had a fiery Latin temper, never more fiery than when something was personal to her. She was like a volcano, an ice covered volcano, seeming cold, but when it blew, lava scorched everything surrounding indiscriminately. He smiled suddenly, thinking of Calleigh. Calleigh had a fiery temper, too, but Calleigh's anger was like a gun, dangerous and directed. With Calleigh, there were no civilian casualties.  
  
Through the window, Yelina watched him, feeling the usual tug-of-war within her. Her anger was still boiling, but underneath were the two primary emotions she had always felt about her brother-in-law. Fascination and fear. They had been there even before Ray's death. Yelina was a dedicated cop, but in all of her driven, temperamental life, Horatio was the only person she had ever met who actually cared about things more than she did. And he did it while remaining steady, civil, gentle. He had more power than anyone she had ever met, and he harnessed it perfectly, only using it when needed, as if intensity could be turned on and off with a switch at will. Since Ray's death, she had occasionally thought about trying to start a relationship with Horatio, had even made a few tentative advances. But along with the fascination was the fear. Deep down, she acknowledged that even if she had Horatio, she could not handle him. Her weight in any kind of scale did not match his, and she knew it. Deep down, when Yelina was honest with herself, she admitted that Horatio terrified her. She had been better matched with the lesser brother.  
  
Outside, Horatio snapped to himself with a jerk. So much for lost causes, now on to better ones. What happens with an irresistible force meets an immovable object, he thought. No, the analogy wasn't quite appropriate. He knew he could break Yelina on this or anything else if he tried, but it wasn't worth it. He valued her and Ray Jr., his only remaining family, too much. She would never forgive him for it, and she carried grudges deep. He was starting to open the Hummer door when a small hand touched him tentatively, and he turned around smiling to face his only remaining blood relative.  
  
"Uncle Horatio," said Ray Jr. softly, "I'd like to know the truth, too." Horatio wrapped him in a hug, and they held each other for several moments as the curious traffic whizzed by. Everyone was looking, and neither of them cared.  
  
***  
  
Horatio sat at his desk, staring at Chaz's notebook. He had the one page memorized, the final note about Tin Man, but this was the first time he had looked beyond it. Pages and pages of initials, dates, nicknames. This was the best key he had. If Ray was not the bad cop, then he was clearly being set up throughout the journal. Still, there might be true information that crept in around the edges. It was incredibly hard to live a lie in every detail. Sorting out the true from the false (if it was false) would be difficult, but it was his best chance. Undoubtedly none of the names in here were actual names, any more than Tin Man was. But the real villain was here, under some name. Horatio was suddenly absolutely sure of it.  
  
"You wanted to see me, H?" Speed entered without knocking, as usual, and collapsed casually into the guest chair.  
  
"Yes, I did. Remember this?" He tossed the notebook across the desk, and Speed nodded, diplomatically not going into how well he remembered it. The whole department knew about that case and its ending. Horatio out of control was a terrifying thought. Speed had no desire to see him at that edge again. "Here's what I want." Horatio leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "I want you to list every set of initials, every nickname, every single person recorded in any way in this notebook. And make notes of every date each name appears."  
  
"What about that case that just came in this morning?"  
  
"I'll take it with Delko. I want you on this. And I want it done today." Speed was the best of them at tight detail work. Horatio knew he would leave nothing off the list.  
  
Speed wondered what on earth this was about, but he did not ask. Horatio was totally shut down, not offering any explanation, and Speed had never had Alexx's knack for prying things out of his boss that he did not want to give. "Right, H. I'll get right on it." He left holding the notebook, but his first move was to go looking for Eric. He wanted to warn his friend to walk softly around H today while working that other case. Something was up.  
  
***  
  
Much later that afternoon, Delko and Horatio re-entered CSI. The case looked like an easy one, for once. "I'll process those samples right away," said Delko. In spite of Speed's warning, Horatio had been remarkably easygoing today, almost like his mind was elsewhere, leaving a courteous shell behind. He had only really seemed all there when he took a phone call from Calleigh for a few minutes. Still, Eric wanted to stay on his good side.  
  
"Horatio!" Don the DA saw him through the glass and exited one of the labyrinthine corridors that connected the labs. "Where have you been?"  
  
"Doing my job," said Horatio amiably.  
  
"I just wanted to remind you, you are testifying tomorrow. So you must be in court on time in the morning. Without fail. No excuses. Understand?"  
  
"I'll be there in the morning. It shouldn't take more than the morning, anyway. Open and shut case. I have a funeral to go to tomorrow afternoon." He started to enter the lab.  
  
"Yeah, right," sneered Don. "Your grandmother again, I bet. You'll leave court when I'm done with you. I've had enough of your excuses."  
  
Horatio's foot froze in mid stride, then came down to the floor in slow motion. Delko stopped his retreat instantly and swung around to face them, as did every CSI worker within 50 feet, all staying carefully clear of the line of fire. Eric spotted Speed coming out of Trace down the hall, heading for Horatio, then stopping instantly as the electricity in the air registered. The normal buzz of work was absolutely stilled.  
  
Horatio turned to face Don and nailed him with the full voltage of his eyes. The hapless DA had already retreated three steps before Horatio said a word. When he did speak, his voice was icy calm. "I am attending a funeral tomorrow afternoon. That is not an excuse. I'll be in court in the morning, but if you aren't done with me by noon, I'm walking off the stand. This last six weeks hasn't been an excuse either, and I'm tired of hearing from you about it. You will not mention it again."  
  
"Um, right, sorry, no problem." Don continued his retreat. How on earth could anybody look so dangerous while speaking so softly? "Sorry, Horatio. Really." He banged into the elevator, having backed clear down the hall, and fumbled behind him for the button. Horatio was still holding him captive with his eyes, and Don couldn't have turned around if he tried. The doors slid open behind him, and he stumbled in, collapsing in relief against the railing as the doors shut, sealing him off safely.  
  
Horatio turned and caught the eyes of about 20 of his subordinates. "Get back to work, people," he said, but there was only mild annoyance in the tone, and his step was light as he headed back down the hall.  
  
"Geez," said Delko to Speed, who had sidled up beside him. "I guess H is back, huh?"  
  
"That was worth buying a ticket for," said Speed. "Don's really been riding him. I wondered how long it would take. Remind me to stay on his good side, okay?"  
  
"Then hadn't you better give him your report?" Eric nodded toward the printout Speed held.  
  
"Right, I totally forgot." Speed lived up to his nickname as he pursued Horatio down the hall. "Hey, H!" His boss turned, and Speed held out the printout like a peace offering. "Here's the list you asked for."  
  
Horatio took it, instantly riveted. "Great, that's just what I wanted. Nice work. Help Eric run samples from that scene today." He headed for his office, and CSI slowly returned to normal.  
  
***  
  
Horatio stared at two lists on his desk. One was the list of names and dates Speed had prepared; the other was simply a list of dates that Horatio himself had pulled from the computer, dates of all drug raids in Chaz's neighborhood during the dates covered by the notebook, all on rival gangs, none on Chaz's before that last one. What a convenient coincidence, thought Horatio. The link jumped out instantly. B.A. Whoever B.A. was, he had met with Chaz within a week before each raid on a rival gang. Every single time, for a period of two years. No other name came close to matching so well. Tin Man was only mentioned in close connection to four of the raids.  
  
B.A. Initials? Horatio quickly pulled up the CSI file on the computer. No one in Chaz's gang had the initials of B.A. He switched to personnel files, and no cop in narcotics had the initials of B.A. He widened the search. No one in vice. Only one in homicide, and that was a woman, furthermore one he knew. No way was she the bad apple. Of course, it could be a nickname. Still, the letters matched on every single raid. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence. "Who are you?" he said suddenly, bringing his hand down hard on the list in frustration. The lights in the office switched out suddenly, as if the switch were on his desk, and he looked up in surprise. Alexx stood framed in the doorway.  
  
"Quitting time."  
  
"No, it isn't."  
  
"Yes, it is." She flipped the lights back on and came across to his desk. "It's 7:30, and I'm officially kicking you out. You've done enough for today."  
  
He groaned. "Alexx, I keep telling you, I'm fine. Are you going to keep tabs on me all week?"  
  
"Absolutely," she said. "Someone's got to make sure you're being reasonable." He grimaced in acknowledgement of the word but did not get up. She wondered what exactly it was he was working on, what had him so involved that she had stood in his office door for five minutes without his noticing her. She had had a good chance to study him, though, and he was definitely tired, whether he admitted it or not. He did look awfully stubborn tonight, though. She played the one card that she knew would shift him. "I talked to Calleigh earlier. Her mother and her brother are both in town now. She would probably enjoy some moral support in dealing with her family."  
  
He straightened up then and switched off the computer. Then he did something she had never seen him do. He put the papers on his desk into the top drawer, along with a notebook, then fished out his key ring and locked it. Finally, he stood up. "Okay, you win. I'll leave."  
  
Having scored, Alexx relaxed her sternness a bit. "I heard you took Don down a peg or two this afternoon."  
  
"He was asking for it."  
  
"That he was." They exited the office together, and she grabbed his arm at the top of the steps, holding onto it over his grumbled protests as they descended. "You're limping a bit today. Did you strain that ankle the other night?"  
  
"No, Calleigh kicked me." This remark achieved the nearly impossible, knocking Alexx speechless. He grinned at her. "Long story. And you did want me to get out of here."  
  
She allowed him the small victory of piquing her curiosity. She still had the larger score. He was leaving. "Good night, Horatio. See you tomorrow."  
  
"Good night, Alexx."  
  
***  
  
Horatio pulled the Hummer up to Calleigh's apartment building, noting the rental car parked out front. He had heard plenty about her mother and her brother but had never met them. From what he had heard, she really would need moral support. For that reason, he stopped outside her door before knocking (he did not, of course, intend use his key in front of her family). Horatio could compartmentalize very well when he needed to, and now he deliberately took everything about his day, the mystery of B.A., the irritation (and satisfaction) of the encounter with Don, the frustration of Yelina, and shoved them all deep into a far corner. Now, Calleigh needed him. He would not be distracted. His only goal this evening was to help her. Satisfied, he took the final two steps and knocked on her door, ready to meet her family. 


	4. Surprises 4

"Wishing you were somehow here again, Knowing we must say goodbye."  
  
Phantom of the Opera  
  
***  
  
Calleigh opened the door hopefully. Sometimes hopes are fulfilled. "Horatio! Come on in. We were just about to eat. Have you eaten anything yet?" As he moved past her to let her shut the door, she whispered, for his ears alone, "The cavalry arrives." She closed the door and turned back to face the room, briskly formal again. "Mother, Peter, this is Horatio Caine. I'll get another plate." She bustled into the kitchen, and the remaining three people in the room sized up each other.  
  
Calleigh's mother was a large, soft woman with beagle eyes. Of course, the circumstances were abysmal, but Horatio suddenly felt that she never smiled much, spent her whole life in mourning. She held out one hand like a deposed princess, and he utterly charmed her by taking it and bowing formally. "Wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Hayes." He did not add that he had heard a lot about her. None of it had been good.  
  
Peter was a different type altogether. Thin, dark as his sister was fair, with a feeling of strained restlessness. He was as jumpy as a cat in a strange house. Unsure of his welcome with Calleigh, maybe? Horatio knew that Peter had run away when Calleigh was 12 and he was 14. They had communicated tersely with cards and occasional calls, but there was no real sense of family. Yet he had come to be there for Calleigh now, he said. Maybe it was just his father who had kept him away. Still, he could have seen his sister often enough without contact with his father. Coming was a good step, though, Horatio thought, and Peter's eyes, unlike his mother's, seemed totally grounded in reality. Horatio was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.  
  
As they shook hands, Peter tried to size up Calleigh's boss. Horatio was absolutely the most self-assured man he had ever seen, without coming off as arrogant. The eyes were warm but magnetic. This was a strong man, Peter realized, someone who was used to taking the lead. What intrigued him, though, was Calleigh's reaction to him. The electricity was unmistakable. She had started glowing the minute she let him in. Now, as she came back from the kitchen, the same response was there, like a cat purring softly to itself just because the favored person is nearby. In fact, the first thing Peter had noticed when he arrived that afternoon, beneath the overlying sadness, was how happy Calleigh had looked. Now he suddenly knew why. And it bothered him, challenged him, worried him. Are you good enough for her, he wondered, studying this tall redhead. She's been through so much from men. You be careful with her heart.  
  
"Peter, Mother, let's eat." Horatio wasn't left out of that invitation; her eyes had included him and in fact placed him first. They all trooped to the kitchen and settled around the table.  
  
Mrs. Hayes started the conversation. In fact, she dominated it. "Mr. Caine, it is so thoughtful of you to come to express your sympathies at this time. We have had such a tremendous loss, you know. My husband was an utter angel. He touched so many people's lives." Calleigh half choked on a sip of wine. "Yes, he was the sweetest man. But of course, you know that. You met him."  
  
"Yes, I knew him." Horatio managed to sound neutral. Calleigh and Peter were both impressed.  
  
"Then you understand. Such a sense of duty, such a sense of his family." She refilled her wine glass. "We never will be able to replace him." She rambled on throughout the meal, drinking more than a bottle of wine completely on her own in the course of it. Calleigh knew it was useless to stop her and made no effort to try. In fact, the sooner her mother collapsed into a drunken sleep tonight, the sooner the rest of them would stop having to listen to her. She watched Horatio, unaware that Peter was watching her. Horatio was at his courtly best tonight, and her mother, convinced she had found a sounding board who really appreciated her deification of her late husband, rattled on happily. Of course, he probably was 1000 miles away mentally, but he was the picture of alert, kind attention. She stretched out a foot under the table, stroking his leg lightly with it, thanking him for taking the pressure of responsive listening off her for this meal, at least. His eyes met hers with a pure sympathy that melted her. Then he immediately looked back to her mother again.  
  
Peter was impressed in spite of himself. This Horatio Caine could not be taking this glorified, half-drunken obituary seriously. No one could. But few people could have pretended so well. He was deliberately drawing her mother's attention to give Calleigh a break. Thoughtful, Peter added to his mental inventory of Calleigh's boss. Maybe he could give you thoughtfulness lessons, Peter, he told himself. His own thoughts tracked off miles away from the room into the past, and he ate absentmindedly.  
  
After dinner, the group moved to the living room for more of the same. It was almost 10:00 when Mrs. Hayes, who was no longer speaking distinctly, began to trail off in her sentences, like a music box that is winding down. "Mother, you'd better get to bed," said Calleigh. "You've had a long day."  
  
"Yes, I am tired," she said, slurring slightly. She stood up unsteadily, swaying on her feet. "Where's the bedroom?" Horatio stood up, taking her arm, and she leaned heavily on him as Calleigh preceded them down the hall. Together, they got her into bed. She was already snoring before Calleigh turned out the light. There was still no privacy with Peter here, but Horatio gently ran a hand across her back as they started down the hall, and she leaned back into him for a minute.  
  
"Thank you, Horatio," she said as they re-entered the living room. Surely she could say that much in front of Peter.  
  
"I'm glad I could help," he said, limping back across to the armchair he had been sitting in. Mrs. Hayes weighed more than he did, and he had taken much of her weight walking down the hall. With a sigh, Calleigh crossed over to him and knelt on the floor, removing his left shoe and sock. He tightened up but did not protest in front of Peter. She ran her hands lightly over his ankle. It was swollen slightly, but the real problem was obvious. The long scar from the surgery where the doctor had pieced the joint back together with screws now had a dark bruise directly over it. She had kicked him right across the incision. Looking up at him, she apologized silently, and he smiled at her, dismissing the whole incident. "Hang on a second, Horatio." She scrambled up and went into the bathroom.  
  
"What did you do to it?" Peter asked.  
  
"Hit it on a piece of concrete," said Horatio, and Calleigh, coming back from the bathroom, nearly choked again.  
  
"Must have been a big piece," said Peter, eying the scar down his temple, which was obviously the same age. Horatio did not offer any further details, though. "Calleigh, you can have the couch tonight. I'll sleep on the floor."  
  
Calleigh looked up from where she was wrapping Horatio's ankle with an Ace bandage. "I'd rather sleep on the floor, Peter."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Positive." It would be too much of a contrast to go from last night, with herself on the couch and Horatio on the floor, to tonight, replacing Horatio with Peter. No thanks, she thought. She pinned the bandage in place, then went back to the kitchen, getting an ice pack out of the freezer, wrapping it against his ankle with a second bandage. Finally, she put his sock and shoe back on, loosening up the laces to make it fit. "Is that better?"  
  
"Much better," he said truthfully. "Thanks, Calleigh."  
  
"So," she said, sitting down on the couch. "What have you been doing with yourself, Peter?"  
  
"I'm an architect. I live in Norfolk these days."  
  
"No wife? Girlfriend? Kids?"  
  
"Nope." Bad genes. He had made a vow to himself not to get involved with anyone. He would never become either of his parents. He smiled at her tentatively. "I've missed you, Cal. I'd like to keep in touch now." He was pretty sure that she wouldn't mind his getting personal in front of her boss, who was obviously a lot more than her boss.  
  
"You could have kept in touch with me without talking to him, you know."  
  
"I know. I just . . . Forgive me, Cal, okay?"  
  
"I'll think about it." He had left her. He was the one who had stood with her through everything their parents rained down on them, and when she was 12, he had left her to face it alone. That was the hard part to forgive.  
  
Peter was afraid to push for any more at the moment. "So you're with CSI now. What's it like?"  
  
Calleigh looked across at Horatio. "How would you describe it?"  
  
"Challenging," he said instantly, "but rewarding."  
  
"Precisely." She looked back at Peter. "How's being an architect?" He started talking about his work, and she opened up a little bit, sharing a few of the cases that had touched her (without names, of course). Horatio threw in a comment here and there but mostly stayed silent, letting them catch up, knowing that Calleigh was more relaxed with him here. Maybe she and Peter could find an understanding. He obviously cared about his work, too, although it was so different from hers.  
  
The clock suddenly struck midnight, rocking Calleigh back to the present. "We'd better get to bed," she said, looking at Horatio, who was looking tired. "Tomorrow will be a long day."  
  
"Right," said Peter. "I think I'll take a quick shower, Cal. You sure you don't want the couch?"  
  
"Positive," she said. "You take it. I'll get out some sheets for us. Would you look in on Mother, Peter?"  
  
"Sure thing." He headed down the hall, and she fished some sheets out of the closet and started making up the couch for him. As soon as they heard the water start running, she dropped the sheets in a pile and turned to Horatio. He was already on his feet, arms open, and she snuggled against him. "I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life, Horatio. You saved me tonight."  
  
He held her close. "I'm glad I could be here. Sorry I couldn't come earlier."  
  
"It's okay." She closed her eyes, leaning against him. "You will come to the funeral tomorrow, won't you?"  
  
"Absolutely. I'm due in court in the morning, but I'll be with you all afternoon."  
  
She pushed away suddenly, worried. "What if court runs over? You know it does sometimes."  
  
"I don't think I'll have a problem getting away. I had a little talk with the DA this afternoon, and he knows I have to leave."  
  
Calleigh snickered. "You had a little talk with him. I would've liked to have seen that."  
  
"Pompous jerk. I must admit, I enjoyed scaring him a little." Calleigh made a mental note to ask Speed or Eric for the full story. She would never get all the details out of Horatio. No point in trying.  
  
"You'd better get home, especially if you have to be in court in the morning. You should have been in bed already, but I'm glad you were here instead. How's the ankle?"  
  
"Better," he said, taking a half loop around the room and back to demonstrate. He really was walking more easily. "You make a wonderful nurse."  
  
"It's the least I could do. Can you possibly forgive me for kicking you this morning?"  
  
"Of course." His eyes held hers, suddenly intense. "Do you know what forgiveness is, Cal?"  
  
"What?" The question confused her.  
  
"It's admitting that there is a fault, but agreeing to move on from it. Forgiveness doesn't mean saying nothing happened. It means that something did happen, but you choose to put it behind you. Not because the other person makes up for it, but by your choice to let it go."  
  
She met his eyes. "Would you forgive him, Horatio? He left me to deal with it alone."  
  
"I don't know," he replied. "I just wanted you to realize what he's asking for, so you could decide."  
  
Not saying that nothing happened. Just choosing to let it go. "I'll think about it," she said, and this time it was a real answer, not a dodge. She hugged him again. "Thank you, Horatio. For everything. Now go home and get to bed."  
  
"You're as bad as Alexx," he said. He kissed her, lingering for another minute, then backed away as the water in the bathroom turned off. "Good night, Calleigh."  
  
***  
  
It was 6:00 AM when Horatio pulled into the deserted CSI garage. He let himself into the building using his ID card in the security lock and made his way up to his office. With court this morning and Calleigh's father's funeral this afternoon, if he wanted any time at all to work on Ray's case, it would have to be early. Still, he felt like a guilty schoolboy sneaking in here before hours, and he found himself half expecting Alexx to pop around a corner.  
  
He unlocked his desk and removed the lists and the notebook. He double checked all of his work from last night. The link was B.A. No question. And B.A. had to be a policeman. He heard Susie again saying, "He said he didn't have to worry about the cops." Someone had protected Chaz. Someone with the authority to do it. And that protection had lasted two years, far longer than Ray's six months on the case. He returned to the personnel records, spending an hour trying to make the pattern and initials fit with any cop. Nothing.  
  
B.A. He wrote the initials on the pad at his desk and stared at them, trying to make them come to life. If it was a nickname, what could it stand for? He reread the first mention of B.A. in Chaz's notebook. "New tough, calls himself B.A." Calls himself B.A. Chaz hadn't given him that name; it was self-chosen. Why? What did it mean? He thought briefly of talking to Chaz himself, but he knew it would accomplish nothing. Chaz would lie to him and enjoy doing it, and Horatio didn't have enough facts to trap an uncooperative witness. He also was afraid that he might actually throw Chaz through a wall, finish what he had started. Horatio knew his limits. Talking to Chaz, facing that sneering arrogance again, would be too much.  
  
Lights flipped on in the labs below, and people started coming in for the day. He'd better get out of here before Alexx caught him. Reluctantly, Horatio locked up the notebook and lists again. He stared at the pad one final time. B.A. "Whoever you are, I will get you," he promised. He picked up the file he would need in court, turned out the office lights, and headed off into a long day. 


	5. Surprises 5

"Past the point of no return, The final threshold. The games we've played till now are at an end."  
  
The Phantom of the Opera  
  
***  
  
The foreman of the jury sat stiffly in the jury box, self-conscious of his duty. The first day of the trial, his eyes had darted curiously from witness to judge to accused, usually finally ending up on the lawyers. It was like keeping score in a verbal ping pong game, with a man's life at stake. How on earth were you to sort out the truth after the lawyers had had their say? This morning, however, his eyes never left the man testifying. Head of the crime lab, the DA had called him, and the foreman could easily believe he was head of wherever he worked. In striking contrast to the day before, with the lawyers tying verbal knots, this man's testimony was given with a calm, inflexible assurance. He honestly believed himself everything he was saying, and the conviction carried over to the listeners. Then he explained the line of evidence, educating the jury without sounding condescending, demonstrating how certain each link in the chain was. It was his own demeanor on the stand, though, that the jury would remember through the end of the trial, that they would remember days later in the deliberation room. He was absolutely convinced, and absolutely convincing, that the truth in this case was plain and simple, that it was here in these links, and that it could not be twisted or ignored. Of course, the defense attorney tried, and the witness calmly, good-naturedly, with absolute confidence stuck to his evidence. It was the lawyer who wound up getting slightly rattled. Watching the witness, the jury foreman wondered admiringly if there was anything that would rattle this man, that would ruffle that composure and that certainty. He doubted it.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh was definitely feeling rattled herself. This morning, she had already had to deal with three crying jags from her mother, mourning the fallen imaginary saint. The only remedy Calleigh knew to her mother's flights of talkative fancy was alcohol, and that remedy couldn't be used in the morning, not with a whole day to get through. Peter hovered around the edges, unsure what to do, and Calleigh had snapped at him finally. "Would you do SOMETHING, Peter? Help me out here." Then their mother, wounded by the tone, broke down again into the terrible plight of the children not getting along and what would her husband say if he heard them, when he had cared for family so much, worked so hard to raise them right. At 11:30, Calleigh finally managed to get her mother to go into the bedroom to change clothes for the funeral. She had already laid out the clothes herself, of course. Her mother never would be able to pick out clothes for a funeral. It would probably take her 30 minutes to even put them on, but Calleigh was not about to stand there and dress her. She already was doing everything else, damn it. She went into the kitchen for a glass of water.  
  
Her cell phone rang. "Duquesne," she snapped.  
  
"Hello, beautiful." The voice reached clear through the line and gave her a verbal massage. Her stress level immediately plummeted.  
  
"Horatio." She closed her eyes.  
  
"Tough morning?"  
  
"I've had better." She smiled at the understatement. At least she could smile about it. That was an improvement on five minutes ago.  
  
"I just wanted to tell you, I'm all through in court. I've got to run a few things by the office, and then I'll be right over. So no danger of me being late. I'll help you get your mother to the church."  
  
"How's the DA?" Calleigh was still smiling. Incredible, how the prospect of a day could invert in ten seconds.  
  
"Meek as a kitten. It was the defense lawyer who tried to rock me."  
  
"Silly him. I could have warned him not to try."  
  
"The trial's still going, of course. The defense will have their say. Still, I think the jury was impressed."  
  
"Of course they were." Who wouldn't be impressed by him?  
  
"Yes, it was strong evidence. We had a good case built up." They were impressed by you, Horatio, not just the evidence. She didn't say it, though. He honestly couldn't see it. For him, it was just the evidence that spoke in court. "Would you like me to pick up lunch on the way over? That would give you one less thing to do."  
  
"Thank you, Horatio. You're an angel."  
  
He chuckled. "Try telling that to the defense attorney. See you in half an hour."  
  
Calleigh snapped the phone shut but continued holding it. "Horatio," she said softly to the empty room.  
  
"You're as bad as Tony." Oops, not an empty room. She turned to find her brother standing in the doorway.  
  
"As bad as Tony? Who's Tony?"  
  
"From West Side Story. When he was singing about his girl's name. 'Say it loud, and there's music playing. Say it soft, and it's almost like praying.' That's how you sounded there."  
  
Calleigh straightened up to her full height, such as it was. "Don't mess with this, Peter. It isn't a joke. And if you say that in front of Horatio, or in front of Mother, I'll shoot you. I do have a gun, you know."  
  
"Mother would probably agree with you. She liked him."  
  
"Don't you like him?"  
  
Peter considered for a minute. "Yes, I do. He's impressive, I must admit. Just be careful, Cal. So many people out there aren't what they seem. Just be sure he's good enough for you."  
  
Calleigh met his eyes directly. "Peter, the only question I have about Horatio is whether I'm good enough for him. Now, let's get busy. We've still got a lot to do before the funeral." Briskly, she marched past her brother back into the living room. He watched her go for a minute, then said softly to the air, "You'd better be good, Horatio. You'll kill her if you let her fall." Part of him worried about his sister, but part of him envied her, too. He wondered if a beautiful woman would ever say his name like that.  
  
***  
  
The funeral was as long, and as hard, as Calleigh had feared, but she didn't have to deal with everything, after all. Her mother had latched onto Horatio the minute he came through the door, and he, bless him, dealt with her as he had last night, being an attentive (or at least seemingly attentive), sympathetic audience, accepting the verbal flood without comment. He managed to get everyone else there amused watching him, and the one bright spot of the whole service for Calleigh was watching her CSI coworkers watch Horatio.  
  
After the funeral, Alexx had invited them over to her house for an early dinner, sparing Calleigh having to fix anything. So everyone packed around Alexx's small table: Her own husband and two kids, Calleigh, Peter, Mrs. Hayes, Horatio, Speed, and Delko. Mrs. Hayes continued to dominate the meal, impossible to ignore even though she was only addressing Horatio, who was sitting next to her. Calleigh had never admired him more. A whole afternoon of her mother at painfully close range, and the edges still weren't fraying. Incredible.  
  
The same couldn't be said for the rest of them. Even Alexx's children, who hadn't been to the funeral, were starting to get restless by dessert, looking across at Mrs. Hayes, then back at their mother, as if asking if people really could be like that. Peter was wearing thin, and Calleigh herself wasn't far behind. If it weren't for Horatio, she probably already would have snapped.  
  
It was Peter who finally offered the first tentative change of subject. "Mother, you should eat your dessert. You can't eat it while talking. Give someone else a chance. Why don't we hear some of Calleigh's cases? She was telling me a few last night, and they're interesting."  
  
"You never did care about your father, did you." It wasn't a question. Calleigh thought she was about to burst into tears again. "Yes, just talk about something else. Ignore this loss we've had. I'll remember it every day for the rest of my life, but you just shrug it off. You Benedict Arnold. You ran away and left us, after all he did for you." She trailed off gradually as she realized that no one was listening to her anymore. Everyone was looking at Horatio instead.  
  
His head had snapped sharply up, and the eyes had burst into instant flame. Not just the eyes, but every inch of him, alive, alert, eager for action. Mrs. Hayes, following everyone else's riveted gaze, eyed him as if she had never seen him before. The electricity hung in the air like a snapping, arcing wire, almost visible.  
  
Horatio with difficulty pulled his focus back from its object momentarily and looked across the table. "Um, Calleigh. . . " he started, and she interrupted him.  
  
"Sure, go ahead. Go get 'em, tiger."  
  
"Thank you." He bolted out of his chair, almost tripping in his eagerness, and headed for the door.  
  
"H," called Delko, "You going to need any help?"  
  
"No." He swung back around, facing all of them. "Stay with Calleigh. I'll be fine, but you stay with Calleigh." His eyes touched hers briefly, and then he was gone.  
  
Mrs. Hayes sat stunned in her chair, shocked into speechlessness for the first time since her husband's death. Even Alexx's children were motionless. It was a good minute before Peter broke the silence. "What the hell happened to him?"  
  
"He does that sometimes," said Speed. "You get used to it." But he still hadn't himself.  
  
"He sees the answer to a case he's working on," Calleigh explained. "Now, he's got to work backwards and build up the evidence to meet it."  
  
"Isn't that wrong way around?" Peter was confused. "I thought you guys followed the evidence to the answer."  
  
"Most of us do," said Eric.  
  
"It's not jumping to conclusions." Calleigh defended him. "Horatio just sees how things fit together. He starts from the evidence, but he sees where it's going and beats it there."  
  
"What case has he been working on this week, anyway?" asked Alexx.  
  
"He got some new information from Susie - you remember Susie? - about his brother. I don't know all the details, though. I never really had a chance to talk to him about it this week." Calleigh once again felt guilty.  
  
"He asked me to go through Chaz's notebook and make a list of all the names and dates," said Speed, "but I couldn't make anything out of it. Alphabet soup. If there's a single real name in there, I'd be surprised."  
  
"Whatever he's on to, I hope he can prove it," said Alexx. None of his coworkers questioned that Horatio was right, but proving it was a different matter sometimes. They had all seen him on cases where he knew the answer, absolutely knew it, and couldn't link the chain together. Adding his brother to one of those equations was unthinkable. The CSIs looked at each other warily around the table. Peter tried to redraw his assessment of Horatio, adding lightning on the inside. And Mrs. Hayes sat there still stunned, for the first time in two days thinking of something besides her husband. What on earth had come over that nice man, to bolt off like that?  
  
***  
  
Horatio sat in his office, running files as fast as his fingers would work the keyboard. It was all there. But how on earth would he ever prove it? Nothing incriminating, even when you looked at the evidence. Totally circumstantial. The defense attorney from that morning's case would make mincemeat of it in two minutes. Horatio closed his eyes, trying to blank his mind, trying to look around the beautiful, blazing whole that filled it, seeing if there were any other possible approaches. One. His eyes snapped open, and he picked up the phone.  
  
"You want what?" Detective Tripp couldn't believe his ears.  
  
"I want to talk to Chaz. Tonight. Right now if possible."  
  
"Um, Horatio, I don't think that's such a good idea."  
  
"It's okay. I promise, I won't kill him. I just need the answer to one question from him, just to confirm something."  
  
"You think Chaz will give you the answer to anything?"  
  
"He'll give me the answer to this. I know how to ask now. He won't be able to help himself."  
  
"He's still in county, waiting for trial. They refused to set bail, you know. Attempted homicide of a whole crew of police officers is a big offense."  
  
"Fine, can you meet me there? Fifteen minutes?"  
  
Tripp sighed. "Horatio, are you sure you know what you're doing?"  
  
"Absolutely." Rock solid conviction, like that morning on the witness stand. Tripp yielded, believing in spite of himself.  
  
"Fifteen minutes, then. But I'll be sitting in on this interview."  
  
"You won't have to," said Horatio. "It won't take long enough to sit."  
  
***  
  
Chaz sneered as Horatio entered the witness room, along with Tripp. "You again? Back for more dirt on your brother? I remember how Tin Man used to . . ." He checked very slightly as Horatio tossed a picture onto the table between them. In the next instant, he caught himself and went on with his former attitude. Anyone not watching intently would have missed his automatic response. Horatio had been watching intently.  
  
"That's all I wanted," he said. "Thank you for your cooperation, Chaz." He turned and marched out the door, leaving Chaz halfway through another sentence about Ray. The entire interview had taken 15 seconds.  
  
***  
  
Horatio re-entered his office, his mind racing. Chaz had identified B.A. absolutely. Of course, his testimony was worthless, even if he would give it in court, which he wouldn't. But Horatio now had a card he could play, could use for leverage. The only possible way to capture this man would be to confront him directly, try to trip him into a confession. He had a four year start on Horatio, and he had covered every step so calmly, so surely along the way that even with Chaz's ID, Horatio had no legally valid case. No, he would have to face him down himself. And he would do it tonight. This four-year charade had just crashed to a halt. One way or another, tonight would end it. Horatio picked up the phone, dialing the man Ray had wrestled with in his dreams, the worthless friend, the man who had deliberately set up a brother officer to take suspicion away from himself, B.A., Benedict Arnold, the traitor, the bad cop, John Hagen. 


	6. Surprises 6

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word, and I will follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning. Anywhere you go, let me go too. Love me. That's all I ask of you."  
  
The Phantom of the Opera  
  
***  
  
Lightning flickered in the distance as Horatio drove the Hummer across town to Hagen's house. He did not like what he was about to do. Still, it was the only way. Normal CSI procedures, gathering the evidence, building the puzzle would not work here. There was no evidence that could not be interpreted two ways. Horatio was positive, but his word wasn't enough, and the proof simply wasn't there. The only possible chance was to force a confrontation, to trap Hagen into something that would stand up in court. He pulled the Hummer up to the curb in front of Hagen's house, then, after a final second's consideration, deliberately removed his gun from his belt, sticking it under the seat. Unarmed, he headed up the sidewalk, listening to the low rumble of thunder. A storm was coming, a big storm, announcing its presence well in advance.  
  
Hagen opened the door with a welcome that he didn't feel. He had no idea why Horatio wanted to talk to him tonight, but merely the presence of the man had always made him uneasy. Hagen, with his clean cut good looks, his football player build, his ambitions, was the picture of the All American cop. He played on that image, enjoying the recognition that it gave him, relishing the veiled power of the department visible behind him. People were always impressed with him, and he enjoyed impressing them. But in Horatio, he had run into a stronger force, someone who carried more influence than himself, professionally and every other way that mattered. Always, deep down, Horatio scared him. And Hagen wasn't used to being scared. "Horatio, good to see you," he said, backing away automatically as Horatio entered. "Nice to have you back on the job again."  
  
"Thank you." The reply was meaningless. Horatio actually looked a bit on edge tonight, unusually ruffled. His attention was on something besides social pleasantries. "Shall we sit down?" Naturally as breathing, Horatio assumed the lead, even though he was in Hagen's house, and led the way to the chairs. Hagen unwillingly followed him, hating himself for following so meekly.  
  
Once they were seated, Horatio settled back and steepled his fingers. "I wanted to talk to you about that case with Chaz a few months ago. You remember that one?"  
  
"Sure," said Hagen. "Hard to forget the team almost being blown sky high. Tripp told me about that one."  
  
"Some new evidence has turned up this week, and I wanted to discuss it with you before the trial comes on." Horatio was now as smooth and assured as Hagen had ever seen him. Had that first impression been wrong? "I think we may have the motive behind that explosion all wrong."  
  
"What do you mean? The bomb was set on a trip device. He was after the police working the scene. No question."  
  
"I'm not so sure anymore that he was after all of us, though. I think he was aiming for one person and just didn't care who else he took out in the process. I've looked up the records. Someone switched duties with Tripp that morning. Someone was supposed to be on call but didn't want to take that one. Chaz couldn't know the change. But there was one person who should have been on the first response team that Chaz was afraid of, wasn't there, B.A.?" As he spoke, Horatio's eyes dropped to Hagen's hands, and he saw them clench suddenly, the knuckles going white, then forcing themselves to relax. Hagen's expression never faltered, but people who school their face so well often forget their hands, and Horatio had caught his first reaction. Guilty! If he had had any doubts, they were gone now.  
  
"I don't know what you mean." He couldn't know. There was no proof. Hagen had spent sleepless nights worrying about Horatio back at the time of the case, but he knew there was no proof. If there had been, Horatio would have been here months ago.  
  
"You sold out the department, didn't you? For over two years, you took a cut from the gang for protection. But then Ray was assigned to the case, and he started to wonder why that gang had never been hit. Every rival in the neighborhood, but never that one. You set him up. And after he was killed, you kept on taking your cut from the gang, and you kept the rumors alive in the department. No reason to try him after he was dead, but if anyone ever questioned things, Ray was there to take the fall." Horatio's voice was low, but for the first time Hagen could remember, the control was obvious, the strain of keeping himself reined in visible. Somehow, it made him even more frightening. Barely held rage could go rampant in a heartbeat.  
  
"Horatio," said Hagen, trying to school his own voice into calm, "Ray was my partner. I could never betray my partner."  
  
"Benedict Arnold." The nickname came out like a shot from a gun. "From the beginning, before you ever partnered with Ray, you betrayed the force. And you knew it. You even picked the name yourself. Why, Hagen?" The eyes captured Hagen's, and the detective looked down, unable to face that blue fire.  
  
Horatio continued. "And for two years after Ray's death, you kept on taking your cut. Until Chaz finally got tired of it. Was he just scared because you knew too much? Or did you raise your demands? Why did he decide to take you out?"  
  
"He. . . " Hagen caught himself after the one word, clamping his teeth together. Horatio stood up and started pacing around the room, with those tight reins still visible. And something else visible, too. Hagen abruptly noticed that Horatio was still favoring the left leg slightly, not entirely sound yet. He lifted his eyes then, studying Horatio, who was no longer looking at him. That long scar was still plainly visible down the side of his face. Hagen had heard the story. Everyone in the department had heard the story. Horatio had been critically injured, nearly killed, when he was hit on the side of the head by a piece of the falling bridge. Seven hours of brain surgery, the story went. How long ago had that been? Six weeks? Seven, maybe, but no more. This was his first week back. He wasn't totally healed yet. He was here alone. And Hagen now realized that he was unarmed.  
  
"So what was your cut?" Horatio had stopped near the window, staring out at the lightning. The storm was getting closer.  
  
"10 percent." Hagen abruptly dropped the pretense. Slowly, he got to his feet, trying to appear casual. Horatio did not look at him, apparently intent on watching the storm. Hagen's own gun was in his bedroom, in the nightstand, out of reach, but a gun was too traceable, anyway. Calleigh would piece that one together in two seconds. Hagen crossed idly to his fireplace. It was only decorative, this being Miami, but there was a set of pokers there, exactly like hundreds of other sets sold at Wal-Mart.  
  
"Did you ask for more? He was trying to get you, you know. That whole explosion was for you. The rest of us were just a bonus. He couldn't know it would be Tripp instead." Horatio turned from the window and crossed to the other one, looking out toward the street.  
  
"I asked for 15%. It was nothing to him. Do you have any idea how much money he was making in a day?" Hagen picked up the poker carefully, silently, and started across the room slowly, the poker behind his back.  
  
Horatio's tone was icy. "Do you have any idea how many lives he demolished in a day? Relatives, families, the people themselves. No money in the world would be enough. Did you ever even think about the people, Hagen? About Ray? Ever had it eat at your conscience in the middle of the night?" He turned, and headed back for the other window, the one that looked toward the storm. Hagen crept closer, steeling his muscles, eying that long scar marking the original point of impact perfectly for him. One good crack along the right side of his head, and Horatio would never scare him again.  
  
"I admit, it crossed my mind a few times. But you don't understand what money can do, Horatio. It buys a lot of peace." Hagen tightened his grip on the poker and leaped, and Horatio, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, darted sideways the instant before impact. The blow from the poker smashed on a side table with splitting force, breaking the wood neatly in two pieces. Hagen whipped the poker back up, aiming for a second blow. So it would take two. Fine. Even forewarned, Horatio couldn't escape him. He had already stumbled slightly in his original dodge. His ankle wouldn't hold up to quick maneuvering. Hagen stepped forward. Horatio did not step back. He was pinned now, between the couch and the wall, nowhere to go but back. He stood his ground. "Back down, damn you." Hagen suddenly wanted to see Horatio cringe. "Isn't there anything you're afraid of? You can't possibly take me." Horatio still refused to back away, and Hagen brought the poker down with all the hatred and all the fear he had ever felt for this man. Even as he started the blow, Horatio did the one thing Hagen hadn't expected. He charged, hitting Hagen around the midsection, and they both fell over as the poker clattered harmlessly onto the floor.  
  
"Freeze, Hagen!" Adele Sevilla's voice cracked like a shot as she came crashing through the door, gun up and ready. Horatio got to his feet slowly. Hagen stayed on the floor, staring straight down the barrel of her police special. Where the hell did she come from? Two other detectives poured through the door behind her. "John Hagen, you're under arrest."  
  
"You'll never prove this!" Hagen glared at Horatio. "You haven't got a single piece of hard evidence."  
  
"You're wrong," said Horatio, unbuttoning his shirt. "I was wearing a wire the whole time, and Adele has everything on tape. I think it's enough to qualify as a confession, don't you?"  
  
"Sounded like a confession to me," Adele agreed.  
  
"And even if we can't get the charges in Chaz's case to stick, we've got you dead to rights on another one. No attorney in Florida could get you off."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Attempted murder of a police officer," said Adele. "You want to press charges, Horatio?"  
  
"Absolutely," he said. "That's a serious offense, Hagen. Same charge Chaz is facing. Maybe you can talk it over in prison together."  
  
Prison. The thought of being in prison, in the open population, along with the people he had taken down as a cop on one hand and the people he had charged for protection as a bad cop on the other, did what nothing else in his life had done. Hagen broke wide open. "You can't put me in prison. Not with all of them." He was pleading unashamedly. "I've got information. I can cut a deal. You've got to help me."  
  
Horatio stared at him, the man who had betrayed Ray, babbling like a child for mercy. "Get him out of here," he said abruptly, and crossed back over to the window, looking at the lightning again. He heard the cuffs click into place behind him, the low murmur of the Miranda warning, which of course Hagen knew already. The two other detectives left with Hagen between them, and Adele came up quietly to stand beside Horatio.  
  
"That was a big chance you took," she said.  
  
"No choice. I knew the evidence wasn't there. We had to have an iron clad case for something."  
  
"I really had trouble keeping the boys back, you know. They wanted to come in as soon as he confessed."  
  
"It's better this way," said Horatio wearily. "He'll never get off, now."  
  
"You realize that he probably will cut a deal, though." Adele's voice was sympathetic.  
  
"Yes. Our wonderful system. He will wind up doing some time, at least. Attempted murder of an officer is a serious offense. And prison ought to be quite educational for him." He turned away from the window a bit too quickly and stumbled slightly. His ankle was protesting its treatment tonight.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"Just tired." Horatio wondered if he should have business cards printed up that read "I'm fine, damn it!" and start handing them out to everyone who asked him that question. Still, he couldn't really be annoyed with Adele. She had backed him up without hesitation tonight, when he had no real evidence to offer her. "Thank you, Adele. For everything."  
  
"I'm glad I could help." She was. She was better off, every officer on the force was better off, with Hagen exposed. She watched Horatio head for the door, smiling at his back, realizing how much she had, in fact, missed him. "H!" He turned around, the eyes questioning, and she smiled at him. "It's good to have you back."  
  
He straightened up slightly. "It's good to be back. Good night, Adele." He left the house and headed for the Hummer. The lightning was closer, but the storm hadn't broken yet.  
  
***  
  
Horatio drove across town with only one thought left in his mind. Calleigh. He needed her presence to wash the taste of Hagen out of his spirit, needed her pure goodness and dedication to soothe the wound left by a fellow officer's betrayal. More than anything, he just needed to be held, to feel her arms around him. Such strong arms, for such a slight body. Plenty of room to hide in.  
  
He pulled around the corner to her block and nearly brought the Hummer to a halt in the middle of the street. In front of her apartment building was the rental car Peter was driving, as well as Delko's, Speed's, and Calleigh's own. They were all here with her, supporting her after her father's death. Her father. For the past four hours, Horatio had not given a single thought to her father. She had just been through his funeral, and Horatio had only been thinking of his own need as he drove over. He would not inflict himself on her tonight. She deserved comfort herself, and he felt absolutely too battered to give it. At least she wasn't alone. The rest of the team was here for her. A car behind the Hummer honked impatiently, and Horatio let his foot off the brake and drove on into the darkness.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh had unashamedly given her mother a bottle of wine the minute they got into her apartment, and Mrs. Hayes, while not yet unconscious, was certainly past the stage of active participation in the conversation. She had gradually melted back into the couch, and the others talked over her as if she weren't there. The others, Calleigh thought warmly. Alexx had stayed with her family, but Speed and Eric were here with her. They probably would have been anyway, even if Horatio had not told them to stay with her. Calleigh's heart skipped a beat as she remembered how, in the absolute heat of the chase, finally knowing the answer to the one case that haunted him above all others, he had taken time out to think of her, to make sure she would not be alone.  
  
The three men spoke easily to each other, gradually getting acquainted. Peter was much more relaxed with her two friends than he had been with Horatio. He knows they're "just friends," she thought. Just friends, as if that weren't enough. She thanked God for them both right now. At least she didn't have to deal with her mother alone, or only with Peter, which was nearly the same thing.  
  
Mrs. Hayes stirred suddenly. "Horatio," she said, tripping over the name. "Where did he go?"  
  
"He's working, Mother," said Calleigh. "Why don't you get to bed now?" While you can still walk a bit on your own.  
  
"Looks like H has a fan," said Eric.  
  
"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," said Speed. "Come on, Calleigh, let's get her to bed." He grabbed one arm, and Calleigh took the other, walking Mrs. Hayes unsteadily down the hall.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Peter, suddenly feeling like he should apologize for his family.  
  
"Hey, man, no one gets to choose their parents." Eric smiled at him. "You've got a winner for a sister, though."  
  
"I sure do," Peter agreed. Speed and Calleigh returned. Speed settled down in his chair again, but Calleigh stayed on her feet, walking over to the window, looking out at the lightning in the distance.  
  
"Storm coming," she said casually, and turned back from the window to meet three sets of eyes that weren't at all casual.  
  
"I'm sure he's alright," said Speed.  
  
"H. knows what he's doing," Eric agreed.  
  
"I know he does. But he still isn't totally recovered, you know." Her worry went beyond that. Not just his body, but his spirit. Whatever happened with Ray's case, it would rake Horatio over the coals.  
  
"What happened to him?" asked Peter. "He told me he hit a piece of concrete." Speed actually sat up straight, and Eric choked over a swallow of his Diet Coke. Without a word, Calleigh walked over to her desk, pulling out a paper from last Sunday, the one with "Miami Honors Horatio Caine" splashed across the front page. She tossed it into Peter's lap.  
  
"Hit a piece of concrete," snorted Speed. "H never lies, but he can tell the truth with a lot of imagination, sometimes." With growing respect, Peter read the story reviewing the bridge collapse, and for the first time, he started to understand Calleigh's comment about her being good enough for him.  
  
"Why don't you give him a call? Just to see what he's doing," suggested Eric. "I doubt he'd mind."  
  
Calleigh had already thought of that and discarded the idea several times. She didn't want to distract him from something critical. Still, it was a lot harder to toss the idea aside at 10:30 than it had been at 7:00. She took out her cell phone and looked at it, hesitating.  
  
"It won't dial itself," said Speed.  
  
Calleigh took the plunge, hit the buttons, then listened to the recording with growing alarm.  
  
"What is it?" Eric didn't like the expression on her face.  
  
"His cell phone isn't turned on."  
  
"What?" Speed couldn't believe it. None of them could. Horatio was absolutely roped to his cell phone, reachable anywhere, anytime, on call 24/7. For him to deliberately turn it off was unprecedented.  
  
Calleigh tried to sort through her own thoughts. Simply having the phone not answered might mean he was in physical danger, but if it had been turned off, Horatio had done it himself, deliberately. And if he would go to that length to avoid talking to anyone, he definitely needed some company. The case must be over, one way or another. He would never take himself out of the loop with it still open. But her concern was greater, if anything. She faced her friends. "Eric, Tim, would you guys go try to find him? Just to make sure he's alright?" They both started to stand up, but Peter's voice stopped them halfway.  
  
"No, why don't you go, Calleigh?" She turned toward him, and he stopped her protest halfway. "I'll stay here and look after Mother. You've done more than your share of that, anyway. Go find him, Calleigh. Go on."  
  
Calleigh looked at him for a long moment. Her brother. Who had run away and left her. Who had now come back. She walked across and kissed him suddenly. "Peter," she said, "I forgive you." She grabbed her car keys and bolted for the door.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh went to his house first, and the Hummer was there. She let herself in with her key, but she knew the minute she stepped in that the house was empty. He had been here, though. The light in the kitchen was on, and on the table was the photo album she had given him, open halfway through, as if he had been looking through its pages again. Well, that was why she had given it to him. She never wanted him to question his influence on the world again. Still, he hadn't found the answers there tonight. He had left it abruptly, still open. She crossed to the back sliding door, looking out through the glass toward the beach. Dark seascape streaked with lightning. He was out there somewhere. She could feel him. She opened the door and stepped out into the freshening breeze as thunder rumbled overhead.  
  
***  
  
Horatio sat on the sand with his back propped against a rock, listening to the tide, watching the storm roll in. He let his mind track out the patterns, tracing all the nuances of nature. This was why he loved the ocean. So awe-inspiring, relentless, powerful, yet it could be explained. The patterns were there, even the patterns of violence, like the hurricanes. They could be studied, respected, understood. The lightning overhead was not frightening, just powerful. Much more powerful than he was, but that did not bother him. He understood it.  
  
But he would never be able to understand how a fellow officer, someone sworn to help the people, could be such a traitor. That level of deceit scrambled Horatio's world. He understood the criminals, even Chaz, who made no pretense about what he was. But how could someone live such a lie? It did not make sense. And Horatio desperately needed the world to make sense. It was what he lived by.  
  
Warm hands suddenly grasped his shoulders. "Horatio." He started to scramble to his feet, and she stopped him, folding her own body down beside his instead. She wound both arms around him, holding him tightly, and he leaned against her, closing his eyes, trying to draw order and peace from her presence. It was 20 minutes before he said anything, and she did not push, simply holding him, stroking his hair softly. When he was ready to talk, he would.  
  
"It's over," he said finally.  
  
"Is it?" He caught the flash of her eyes in the dark. Good old Calleigh, ready to slay any dragons left who needed slaying.  
  
"Yes. It's over." He straightened up slightly. "It was Hagen."  
  
Somehow, she wasn't surprised. "I never really trusted him."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really. He would always slip in sideways comments about you. Like once, he said he hoped you knew what you were doing. I said you'd been doing it a long time, and he said he hoped you got to keep doing it. Another time, he tried to tell me you walked a lonely road."  
  
"That much is true."  
  
"You've been alone too much in life, Horatio. But you aren't alone anymore. Don't ever forget that." She pulled his head over against her chest again. He was still tense. "What is it then, if it's over?"  
  
He sighed. "I just don't understand it. How can anybody be such a traitor? And it never showed. Little hints, in retrospect, yes, but if it weren't for Susie, he'd still be walking around as a cop, and I wouldn't know."  
  
Calleigh felt an absurd urge to laugh, quickly repressed. "Horatio, you can't understand everything. You can't know everybody. No one can."  
  
He pulled away, looking at her. "I have to try. It's the only way the world makes sense."  
  
She took a moment to choose her words. How could she soothe him? "You see more sense in the world than anyone else I've met. But Horatio, you can't see it all. There's too much there. There are things beyond our ability to explain. Like traitors. You could try all your life, and you will never understand that. You're too honest to understand it." He considered, but he still didn't quite look convinced. Try another example, then. "But there are good things you can't explain, too. Beyond any category. They're still real. Like love." She hugged him suddenly, fiercely. "I love you, Horatio. And you're never going to be able to sort out everything I mean by that. You can try the rest of your life, and you won't see it all."  
  
His expression lightened suddenly. She felt some of the tension leave him, and he hugged her back. "I love you too, Calleigh. More than I can explain. You're right."  
  
She asked him then, because she had to. "Then why didn't you come to me tonight?"  
  
"I wanted to. But you'd just been through your father's funeral. You were with your family."  
  
She was angry suddenly. "My family? Biologically, maybe. You are my family, Horatio. Don't you see, I'd rather be with you than them, especially if you needed me." There was a slight question in the last words, and he heard it.  
  
"I needed you. I just wasn't sure I had the right."  
  
Sometimes she honestly wanted to hit him. "Horatio Caine, get it through your thick head. I want to share whatever you're going through with you. Good and bad. Anytime you need me, you let me know. Anytime at all. Don't make me hunt you down again."  
  
He smiled suddenly, and she heard the smile in his voice. "I bet you would, though."  
  
"Damn right. I told you before, you aren't getting rid of me. And that's something in the world that you won't ever be able to explain."  
  
He wrapped his arms around her suddenly, and the strength of his grip almost took her breath away. Calleigh, he thought. Absolutely unexplainable, like she had said. What a precious gift in life. He suddenly remembered his original plans for last Monday but momentarily shoved them aside. She just went to her father's funeral today, he told himself. She felt his retreat. "What is it, Horatio?"  
  
To hell with waiting for perfect moments. Time to start manufacturing some. He reached into his pocket, finding the small box he had carried with him all through this week. "Calleigh," he started, and a huge lightning bolt split the sky directly overhead. The rain suddenly started, coming down in sheets, instantly drenching both of them. "Come on, give me a break, would you," he shouted suddenly toward the sky, and Calleigh burst out laughing.  
  
"Come on, Horatio, let's get inside before we drown." She stood up, but he stayed where he was.  
  
"No way. I'm not stirring a step until you tell me something."  
  
"What's that?" Thunder rumbled around them, and the next lightning bolt lit his eyes, letting her see his face completely. He half raised himself to his knees.  
  
"Calleigh, will you marry me?"  
  
She collapsed back down onto the sand with him. "Yes. Oh, yes. I haven't wanted anything else for two years." He slipped the ring on her finger, and she held it out, letting the lightning reflect in it.  
  
"Neither have I." He wrapped her against him, and suddenly it was a perfect moment. Even with the thunder, and the lightning, and the pounding rain. This fits us better, she thought. Flowers and candlelight are too routine for us. She kissed him, and he answered the pressure of her lips on his own with increasing passion. And her cell phone rang.  
  
Horatio broke away from her, collapsing onto the sand, helpless with laughter. She pulled the phone out, trying to shelter it with her hand. "Duquesne." And this had better be good.  
  
"Calleigh?" It was Adele. "I can't get hold of H, and Speed said you went to find him. Is he with you?"  
  
"Sure, just a sec." She passed the phone to Horatio. "It's Adele." She stood admiring her ring in the lightning. It was absolutely gorgeous out here. The rest of my life, she thought, whenever there's a storm, I'll remember this night.  
  
Horatio snapped the phone shut and returned it to her. "I have to go down to the police station to make a statement. They want it before they finish processing Hagen." He started to scramble up, and she helped him, realizing for the first time that his ankle was bothering him again.  
  
"Make a statement about what?"  
  
"Long story. I'll tell you on the way. Come with me?"  
  
"Anywhere." She looped her arm through his. "First, though, I'll wrap that ankle for you again. We'd better change clothes, too." They looked at each other and both burst out laughing. Wet and caked with sand, they looked more like beached sea monsters than professionals. "But about the future, there's just one problem, Horatio."  
  
"What's that?" He stopped, concerned.  
  
"How on earth are we ever going to manage to have kids?"  
  
He smiled. "Once in a while, we'll just both have to turn our phones off. And I promise you, I won't even take mine on our honeymoon."  
  
"Deal. I won't take mine either." She kissed him again, a warm promise of things to come. Then they walked up the beach hand in hand to his house. 


End file.
